two storeys
word.paper.a mass of flesh
crowding the stairs of work
up and down they float
to and fro till
the train
they sleep.

row upon row of (concrete blocks)
girded by (rusted iron)
mounted on (crushed rock)
gives way to . wooden
economy.

two backpacks
two suitcases
trundeling along the side walk
with speed they rush
a couple
sliding across the pavement
in the morning sun.
towards the future.
the present is in the window
proudly on display
in view
attempting to be sold
yet they rush
their bags are packed
to catch the train
to tomorrow.

rolling ever onward
across crusted iron railings
two lines merging into one
to become again two

railway tracks interwieving
shufling and shunting onwards
from and to each destination
in halfhearted littel bounces.

and so im left alone
pushed onwards in the night
rushed along these rusted tracks
from memory into memory

were any of them ever true
or were they dreams as im dreaming now
its said that it would take a lifetime
to find that one perfect blossom

past cars, buses, silent lamps
the more and less connected
this way and that jumbled
like half forgotten words

each tree or bush a separation
moving from everywhere to there
and here merely the nonexistence
of bated boredom: impatience

at here there and everywhere
at why where and neverthere
come high low and someplace else
just get me back to somewhere

silently swayed reeds
moving in answer to the trains small dialogue
calling and drawing upon our attention
revealing one upon another
soft sweet ponds.

sinking now
slowly slowly sinking in upon themselves
sinking into drudgery and poverty
a refuge a refuse
of all we've let escape.

childrens paint in brown and green
each colour caught snared
and dissolved
to come and here to wait
in silent still ness wait.

wait for their fellow travellers
along this graveled road
to pass no more upon the other side.